The point of it

Dear mosquitoes who live in my room,

I swear to God if one of you has West Nile I will make sure that you and all your families die.

Fuck you Mosquitoes who live in my room.

Fuck you.

My hand itches,

Dru

I can't find you...

Dear the Mosquitoes who live in my room,

Where the hell are you hiding. I'm 100% certain that you are no longer there until I can hear you when the lights are turned off.

So where the hell are you hiding?

I'd like to think I know my room alright, but you are repeatedly making me doubt myself.

And for that I say fuck you.

Also how do you get to my face so fast when I turn out the lights.

Yours,

Dru

I saw my blood

Dear the mosquitoes who live my room,

I do not feel remorse for my destroying of one of your lives last night. I feel no remorse. Because I know that the blood I saw splattered on my wall was my own blood. Drilled from the veins that reside within the thin skin surrounding my arm. Or hand. I swear to God if you were the one that bit my hand I feel extra good for killing you.

Fuck you Mosquitoes who live in my room.

Fuck you to hell.

Yours,

Dru

Unwelcome Guests

Dear Mosquitoes in my room,

I don't know how you found a way into my room in Brooklyn. I was under the impression that with the screen and the glass in the windows that there were no holes with which you could enter. I was also under the impression that you had been through for the season after the exceptionally cold few days a few weeks back.

I now know that this is wrong.

You have infiltrated my room somehow.

So to my unwelcome guests I tell you this: Fuck you. I hate you mosquitoes in my room. I hate you.

I will destroy you.

Yours,

Dru D. Johnston